Fly (Wild Love Book 2)

by Red L. Jameson

  The taller of the men stands close to his friend, still smiling, waving away my concern. “I forget stuff like that all the time. I’m just glad it wasn’t too bad of a crash. It doesn’t look like your Wrangler has any damage; although, the snowdrift does have a dent in it now. Oh, hey, are you okay, though?” He takes off his skull hat, revealing shiny jet black hair that’s surprisingly long at the top but much shorter around the sides and back, and those shorter strands are standing upright, giving him an almost boyish look. He tries to pat down his hair the way rugged men do with a rushed touch to his head.

  He’s startling handsome. Even with his thick beard. He’s one of those men who make women of all ages stop and stare, become overwhelmingly aware of him.

  My cheeks heat, even though he hasn’t come inside to lecture me. He isn’t telling me what a stupid woman I am for forgetting to put the Wrangler in four-wheel drive. He’s not laughing at me at all. He’s sympathizing, and I’m not sure what to do with that. I’m concerned I might gawk at him too much, so I try to look away.

  I nod. “I’m okay.”

  The tall man turns to his friend. “She really okay?”

  The man who carried me inside bends and finds my wrist under the blanket. He lifts his sleeve and reveals a watch on top of an intricate Celtic-looking black tattoo, while his warm fingers find my pulse. The taller man grins again.

  “He had military medical training.” That’s all I get as reference for why my pulse is being taken.

  But I understand the reference. “Army?” I ask.

  “Nah, we were sailors.” The taller man, I realize, is of Asian descent. His dark eyes sparkle. His voice is so smooth with just a little roughness in it. I could go to sleep listening to him. Or I could ask him to talk dirty to me.

  Just where that thought came from is a mystery. No, I’m pretty sure it’s my crazy hormones.

  “Navy, then?” I blink as the man who carried me takes his fingers away and then looks into my eyes. I’m fairly certain he’s making sure both of my pupils are dilated, but the way he keeps staring at me ruffles something inside. It’s that feeling of instant attraction—it makes my skin prickle and my heart beats faster.

  Damned hormones.

  They both nod at the question, then the man who carried me straightens and communicates something with a slight nod to his friend. I must be fine. And thank you so much for trusting me to answer that for myself. Yes, I’m frustrated the taller man is insisting his friend assess me, rather than take my word for it. But the truth is, I’m not sure I am okay. I worry about my baby. I worry because I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want my child. And something is sure to go wrong because for once in my life I want something.

  But not only that, I feel so unsettled. Both the men are attractive, and I hate how I’m noticing. I’m sure they think I’m a ditsy flake who runs into snowdrifts.

  I have to crane my neck to look up at them, to which the taller man silently chuckles. “Sorry.” He bends to one knee. “That better?”

  I’m moved the tall man knew my discomfort and accommodated me. But I try to hide anything I’m feeling. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Oh, I’m H and this is Jay,” the tall man says. “We should give you our names so you might not think we’re complete stalkers or anything.”

  “H and Jay?”

  H grins yet again, his teeth a shocking white against his black beard. “I guess we sound even more suspect since our names are just initials.”

  I laugh. “I—I’m Dee.”

  The man who carried me, who hasn’t said a word so far, Jay, laughs. Loudly. He looks shocked and stops, glancing at me, then comes to kneel on one knee too.

  “That’s too funny,” H says. “You’re not kidding? Your name is Dee? All of us have just initials for our names?”

  “Not kidding. I’m Dee. It’s nice to meet you, H and Jay. And thank you for saving me. I can’t believe I crashed my Jeep. I’m a little embarrassed now.” God, and I am embarrassed. I’m dying to know what the H stands for. What did they do in the Navy? And just who the heck they are and how they came to rescue me from a snowdrift? But I know I’d be even more humiliated if I asked, so I try my best to clam it.

  “Don’t be.” H smiles yet again. I realize then that his lips are hard to make out through his beard. I could tell he was smiling by his eyes, his rich dark eyes that seem to keep saying how happy he is. “We saw the Jeep sliding. They really should have graveled your drive to make it easier for you. And, anyway, you steered your Wrangler toward the drift instead of the cabin. That’s some good driving, Dee.”

  I can’t help but smile. H seems incredibly kind and Jay is nodding, making me think he’s also charitable with his assessment of me. Still, I shouldn’t have been talking to my mother while driving. Oh, there are so many shoulds in life, aren’t there? Maybe too many?

  H sniffs and spreads his fingers on his knee. “Well, we’ve bothered you enough for one day.”

  Jay looks at him, his brows furrowed.

  H continues, ignoring his friend. “We should probably get out of your hair.”

  I finally find the strength to regain use of my arms, extracting them from the blanket to wave helplessly by my head. “No, I—I need to repay you.”

  “Nah.” H rolls his animated eyes.

  “Yes, I—”

  “You still have your luggage in your Jeep?” Jay asks, surprising not only me, but H is looking at him like his friend has just uttered the secret to the universe.

  Jay’s voice is very rough. Perhaps he hasn’t spoken for a long time, or perhaps it’s just that reedy. I’m not sure, but something in my body notices. My breasts are now too full, tingly, the apex of my legs comes to life.

  Stupid damned hormones.

  “Y-yes.” I can’t help but stare at Jay all over again. Something huge has just happened, it feels like, but I have no idea what.

  H is blinking and trying to cover his shocked reaction, then looks at me, the twinkle in his eyes a little brighter. “Yeah, we could get your luggage for you.”

  “No, you’ve done enough.” I shake my head.

  “You should sit,” Jay says, his voice still so gravelly it turns my insides into quivering, overly excited organs.

  I open my mouth, but H says, “We’ll get your luggage.”

  They both straighten and leave before I can argue any further. I can’t believe it, but they’re out of the cabin already. Finally coming to my senses, I stand and easily spot them through the giant picture windows at the front of the cabin. They’re treading their way through the snow to my Wrangler, which is now parked before the attached garage. H says something about shoveling the walks for me before they go. Jay nods.

  Their consideration makes my heart hurt. And I don’t want them to go, even if they are strangers. However, I turn and rush to find the nearest bathroom to check my panties. Luckily, the washroom is close, and I tear down my jeans in a panic to see no blood. I sigh, so relieved. Not only that, but the ever-present feeling of slight nausea is still with me. I have a friend who had a miscarriage and she said she knew before she even started to bleed that the pregnancy was over because she felt good. I don’t feel good. Well, I’m as good as it gets, which means my stomach is ever-so-softly rolling and I have this feeling that I’m forgetting something.

  I hate pregnancy haze, but I’m so glad to have it right now. I think my baby is all right. Maybe I should ask Jay to check me out for my baby. But I’m ashamed to admit to either of the men that I’m pregnant. I’ve only told my mother and sister-in-law. I shouldn’t have said as much to them. Oh, I think my sister-in-law handled the information well. I just shouldn’t have said anything to my mother.

  It was a moment of weakness, telling The Ice Queen. At the time, she’d seemed different. Warmer. Maybe kinder too. She’d tucked some of my sister-in-law’s hair behind her ear in a maternal way. I’d never seen my mother like that. So I told her I thought I was pregnant. She immediately hugged me, which
further shocked me. But then, the very next day, the Ice Queen returned. Immediately, she started criticizing me to the nth degree. And I started to make plans to come here. That, and I promised myself to never be that weak again. I shouldn’t have come back home.

  You can never go back home, they say.

  Who said that? Some literary genius who was depressed all of his life?

  I sigh and put myself back together. After washing my hands, I check my makeup. At least my mask is still in place. Not that I should care what I look like to the men. But I do. I worry they will leave soon, then I realize I should invite them to dinner. That way they can stay with me for a couple more hours. Yeah, I need to repay them for their kindness anyway. And since I’m always hungry—and nauseated, I’d love to eat.

  I actually don’t like eating in front of dates. Or men for that matter. I’m fairly certain they’re judging the width of my thighs against how much I’m eating. But it’s not like either of the guys are attracted to me. And I’m not attracted to them, I vehemently tell myself.

  I take a quick look at myself in the mirror. Granted, I’m pale. I’m always pale though. But for once, I wonder if I’m pretty. Not in a conventional sense. I know that. My mother, even if she is almost thirty years older than me, wins that contest every time. However, when I’m looking at myself, I see hazel-green eyes that seem to dance and shine as much as H’s. My dark brows aren’t creased with worry. My lips seem rosy, and I lick them. Would H think I’m pretty? Maybe Jay?

  I close my eyes and shake my head. I’m pregnant, I remind myself. I’m not going to date either man. I have a baby to raise and a mother to avoid. I have to find a job. I have to figure out how to make money, so I’m not dependent on my mother’s money. Yes, I have a lot of goals. And none of them has anything to do with a man.

  Still, these men are so kind, so I’m going to ask them to dinner with me.

  Just to repay them.

  Nothing more.

  3

  When leaving the bathroom, I find my luggage neatly lined up beside the couch I sat upon when first inside the cabin. I can hear H and Jay outside, shoveling my walk. Without them here, I gauge my lodge, my sanctuary. Hopefully. That is, if my mother doesn’t try to intrude. She never has before. She’s always remained aloof, distant to the point of neglectful. But I’m pregnant now, which seems to bring out all her knives of insulting me and the newest weapon in her armament: seeming to want to be with me, want to take care of me. But it’s a trick to further criticize me.

  I shake my head, trying to rid myself of thoughts of my mother, and look around my cabin. The front room, or parlor my mother might call it, is giant with overstuffed couches and chairs of worn, baby-soft leather. There’re tribal blankets and pillows here and there and a giant big screen TV on one side, the opposite side has a huge stone fireplace, which is lit. A soft blue glow at the base of it lets me know it’s gas, but it’s still incredibly thoughtful someone would start it for me. I’m pretty sure it was one of the men, since Fran, the clerk who checked me in, said I’d need to start a fire to warm up the enormous lodge.

  I’ve never known men to be so considerate. Granted, I loved my brother. Adored him. But he was a selfish prick from time to time. He cheated on my sister-in-law, Jane. I thought she’d leave him for it, but she never did. When he was diagnosed with lymphoma, she stayed beside him until the moment he died. And I always wondered what Tim did to earn that kind of devotion and love. He was an asshole to Jane. Yet she stayed. I’d kill for that kind of love. Not literally, of course, but—you know, I’d do anything for it. Only, I wouldn’t mess it up like my brother did. I would treat it like the gift it is. But I would probably scare any man who dared to love me. I’m too clingy. I’d probably smother the poor bastard. God, I pray, and I never pray, please let me be not so fucked up for my baby.

  I’ve never been the kind of woman who wanted a big white wedding. I never thought I deserved something like that. I never thought I was normal enough. I’ve always been keenly aware that my desperation for my mother’s love wasn’t okay. I just can’t seem to help myself and hold a death grip to the idea that if I do something, anything, then my mother will one day love me. Now, single and pregnant, I’m fairly certain my mother never will.

  And for once, I’m beginning to be okay with that.

  I just want to focus on my baby.

  That’s it.

  “Hello, there!” A woman calls out from the driveway. It’s the clerk, Fran, and she’s smiling suspiciously at H and Jay.

  I can’t make out what anyone says after that. It’s all muffled speech since I’m standing inside. But I can see them make motions to the lodge. So I try to look busy as they make their way in by reading a pamphlet about Yellowstone Park, because that’s my kind of reading. Yes, indeedy. I read pamphlets all the time. God, I’m trying too hard.

  After a loud knock, the middle-aged clerk with waist-long graying hair bursts into the house, H and Jay behind her. Smiling at me, the trio closes the door and stomps their boots, shaking off the snow.

  “Miss Emory, hello, again!”

  I wave at the lovely woman and walk forward. “Dee, please.”

  “Dee.” She comes close and we shake hands like we’re meeting all over again. She’s holding a giant wicker basket, full of Montana-made things like huckleberry chocolate bars and French-milled soap and many other goodies. “Well, just in case you forgot, I’m Fran. I don’t know if I told you that I run this joint and own it too. God, I’m running around like a chicken without my head these days.”

  “Oh, no. I—Thank you,” I say when she hands me the heavy basket.

  “No, I have to thank you and your boyfriends.” She smiles at H and Jay and continues talking before I can tell her emphatically that the men aren’t my anything. “Thank god they were here. They told me about the wreck. I’m so sorry. I should have had the path graveled. My husband Herbert usually does that, but he had an emergency back surgery this past Monday and has been laid up since. And I’ve been trying to figure out how he did all he did. Lord, but I nagged him to get things done. Now that I know how much he does around here, I don’t think I’ll ever nag the poor man again.” She’s laughing at her own joke, and I like her even more for being so talkative and friendly.

  I have to set the basket down. The chocolate must weight a ton. And my baby’s greedily wanting me to lunge into it. But I’ll wait until everyone’s gone.

  “Gosh, Dee, I’m so sorry I didn’t have the path at least graveled.”

  I shrug. “No worries.”

  “Yeah, Dee’s an expert driver anyway,” H says, smiling warmly at me. “She ran her Jeep into the snowdrift there—”

  “I’ve been plowing the place by myself and I didn’t know where to put the snow, so I just piled it there. Again, I’m sorry, Dee.” Fran is wringing her hands. “I’m a mess without my Herbert. What can I say? And that snowdrift is ruining your view.”

  I take Fran’s hands in one of mine, giving her a squeeze. “If it weren’t for the drift, I would have slid into the cabin, and then you’d be screaming mad at me.”

  “No, honey,” Fran returns the squeeze, a friendly gesture, an easy gesture for her, and it warms my heart. “I’d be screaming mad at myself for not graveling and plowing the road better.”

  I shake my head and begin to argue, but Fran squeezes me again.

  “You are a real sweet girl, Dee. I’m glad you’re staying here. Hope I get to know you better before you leave.”

  “Me too.” And I mean it. Fran is so amiable, and I like the nurturing way she’s touching me.

  “Gotta go and find myself a handyman to fill in while my husband is down.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  She smiles and surprises me with a quick hug. Turning, she points a finger at H and Jay. “Take real good care of her.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” They say in unison. Ah, military men. Their manners are the kind that remind me of more gallant times. And they make me wa
nt to be Scarlett O’Hara—swoon and flap a fan near my face, my heart all aflutter, while coyly batting my lashes with a fiendishly sexy grin. Oh, but I could never pull that off. I’m a tad more like a bull in a china store, I’m afraid.

  After a beat, Fran just leaves.

  And I’m standing there, wondering if H and Jay think I’m a moron for never correcting Fran for thinking that both of them, not one but both of them, are my boyfriends. Or maybe she just meant friends that are men. Still, I’m embarrassed I didn’t say anything, heat rising to my cheeks.

  “I think we got you all set up.” H again grins at me. “The sidewalks are shoveled, the porch too.”

  I shake my head. “You shouldn’t have troubled yourself.”

  “No trouble,” Jay says.

  We’re all silent as we stare at him. H again seems gobsmacked by Jay but immediately tries to cover it.

  “I—I’d—” I hate that I’m stuttering and try my best to stop. “I’d love to take you guys out to dinner or something, repay you for your—”

  “Okay,” Jay says quickly.

  H shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”

  “I know.” I smile, trying for an air of confidence and casualness that I don’t feel. If they walk any closer to me, they’d see I’m shaking. Oh, I’ve asked men to dinner before. But men who I knew would accept. Men who make their intentions well known, and usually those intentions are to fuck me. Only, until I was twenty-five, I was an idiot who didn’t understand that intention. I always thought that each guy could be the one. I thought of tropical island elopements and sex with sand under us, and I’d jump to the happily ever after before we even began.

  The first time I had sex, I was fifteen. I only did it in the hopes that my horrible boyfriend at the time wouldn’t break up with me. He did. Of course. And the next ten years I relived that pattern with every man. Even men I knew I had only one night with, I would romantically wonder if they would be bold enough to ask for more than just sex, if they would eventually love me. If I could just figure out the magical elixir to love.